


Just How You Looked In the Light

by thesaddestboner



Series: Author's Favorites [4]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkwardness, Detroit Tigers, Locker Room, M/M, Possible Dubious Consent, Seduction, Shower Sex, Uneasy Allies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-02
Updated: 2008-03-02
Packaged: 2017-11-05 17:03:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaddestboner/pseuds/thesaddestboner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The kid surprises Justin the first time he sets his eyes on him.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just How You Looked In the Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jennyagain](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=jennyagain).



> Written for a request in an LJ meme. [**jennyagain**](http://jennyagain.livejournal.com/) asked for: _verlander awkwardly attempting to seduce one of his new teammates. ;D_
> 
> Takes place during the Winter Caravans and Spring Training. Title from "Hum Hallelujah" by Fall Out Boy. Extensively edited, like, a year later 'cause that's how I roll.
> 
> This isn't meant to be dub-con, but there are parts that could be read that way, so I'm including it in the warnings.
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

The kid surprises Justin the first time he sets his eyes on him. Justin had been expecting a bright and sunny kid, someone like Zumaya, full of effervescent bubbliness that would probably become annoying with prolonged exposure. This kid, though, this kid is dark and brooding, looks like he spends all his spare time listening to Fall Out Boy and Chris Carrabba. This kid looks like he scribbles down emo shit like _feelings_ in a _diary_.

Justin hadn't been expecting the kid's eyes to be so dark and intense, either. He hadn't been expecting so penetrating a stare from so young a kid.

"My name's Rick Porcello," the kid says, like Justin doesn't know who he is. Rick Porcello, wunderkind, grips Justin's hand firmly in his. Justin can feel Porcello's fingertips on his wrist, feeling the veins like he's feeling for stitches.

"Well, obviously, you know my name," Justin says, giving the kid's arm a hearty pump. "Enjoyin' yourself?"

Porcello slips his hand away and tucks it in the pocket of his pressed khakis. "Everybody's been pretty cool," he says, with a slight nod.

Justin arches his eyebrows. "That's all? Just pretty cool? I mean, you met me, that's gotta be pretty fuckin' awesome, right?" He flashes a grin and leers at Porcello, tries to peel back the layers to see what's inside.

Porcello just shrugs. "It's kind of been an overwhelming week."

Justin decides to try a different tack, slipping his arm around the kid's shoulders. "You wanna come out with me an' some of the guys later tonight?"

Porcello eyes Justin with just the slightest hint of suspicion. "And do what?" he asks.

"Drinkin' an' clubbin', what else?" Justin grins and gives the kid a shake.

"I dunno. I don't wanna get in trouble, you know?" Porcello leans away from Justin, flattening his hands down the front of his blue denim shirt.

"We'll keep an eye out for you," Justin promises, before grabbing the front of the kid's shirt.

Porcello starts, eyes bugging out in shock.

"We need to do somethin' about your wardrobe. Middle school is so out." Justin yanks the front of Porcello's shirt out of his belt. "Much better."

"I like how I look," Porcello replies, stepping aside and crossing his arms over his chest. He flicks his eyes down the length of Justin's body, scrutinizing Justin's six feet and five inches. "At least I have more than one Ed Hardy t-shirt and pair of Diesel jeans in my closet."

"Are you insultin' my choice in clothes?" Justin pats a hand over his chest. "I happen to _like_ the way I look."

"And so do I. If it's working, it doesn't need to be fixed," Porcello says, nudging his way past Justin. He pauses and turns to toss a look Justin's way, over his shoulder. "Pick me up around eight."

Justin watches as Porcello's form winds through the crowd, and grins to himself. "That sounds like a challenge to me," he says to no one in particular.

*

It takes a fair amount of work, but Justin manages to convince Tata and Willis to come along. Tata had wanted to dive into his new _Beverly Hills 90210_ DVD box set and Willis had planned on spending the night by himself, wife and infant daughter on speakerphone, but Justin won them over with promises of an embarrassingly drunk rookie. Who could resist that?

And here the three of them are, leading the painfully underage rookie to the slaughter, so to speak. If they get caught, there will be hell to pay, along with legal bills. And of course, the kid doesn't have fake ID and there isn't any time to have one made. They're just going to have to be very, very careful.

"Maybe we shoul' give 'im a fake mustache or somethin'," Willis says, as the four of them approach the club Justin's picked out for the night.

Tata snorts derisively and crosses his arms over his chest, looking bored and annoyed. "That's the dumbest idea I've ever heard. There's no way they'd buy that."

"Gentlemen, please," Justin interrupts, holding up his hands between them "I've got it all taken care of. The bouncer is a friend of mine."

Porcello reaches up and runs his fingers through spiky gelled hair, twisting up his face in distaste. "How much of that shit did you put in my hair?" he complains. "It's stiff and disgusting."

"I use it all the time. Stop fuckin' with it, it looks good." Justin tugs Porcello's hand down.

"It's _not moving_. Like, at _all_." Porcello jerks his wrist away from Justin's fingers and wipes his hand off on the front of Justin's t-shirt.

"Oh, gross." Justin flicks his thumbnail at the dark smear on the front of his shirt.

"Serves you right," Porcello grumbles.

Justin laughs, splaying his hand wide on Porcello's back, under his shoulder blades. He nudges him along as the line begins to move. Justin's big bouncer friend spots him above the crowd and motions for their group to take cuts.

Justin grins, ignoring the groans and whispered curses as he edges to the front of the line. "Hey, Brent, how's it goin'?"

"Pretty good. These guys all with you?" Brent the Bouncer glances from Willis to Tata to Porcello.

Justin nods. "Yeah, they're all with me."

Brent the bouncer stamps the backs of their hands with a blue inked elephant and unclasps the red velvet rope, motioning for the four of them to pass through.

Colorful, flashing strobelights cut through the dark, dancing shafts of light that seem to be pulsing along with the almost all-bass music. Justin presses a hand over his chest; he can feel it thumping in his heart.

Girls in shiny, skimpy club gear gyrate to the music in large iron cages suspended from the ceiling, while men crowd around, reaching with fanned-out fingers, trying to get their hands under the dancers' skirts.

Justin looks around; Tata's already bopped off with a blonde in a slinky red mini-dress, and Willis is chatting up a brunette with water-balloon tits. Porcello, however, appears unimpressed.

"Enjoyin' yourself?" Justin feels like he's asked that before, like he's been taking the kid's temperature the entire night. Hell, since they first met the other day.

"I can't even hear the music," Porcello yells, his breath hot on the side of Justin's neck. "It's so loud I can't even hear it. Go fig."

Justin presses his hand over Porcello's chest. "I can feel it," he yells back, leaving his hand in place. Justin tucks a finger between one of the shiny black buttons on Porcello's starchy red dress-shirt.

Porcello draws back slightly, as Justin scratches his fingernail lightly on the kid's bare skin. "Hey," Porcello says, curling his fingers around Justin's wrist. "Where'd Jordan and the D-Train go?"

Justin raises his head. Tata is wrapped up in the blonde, club-humping on the dance floor, and Willis is cozied up to the brunette (and her impressive tits) in a secluded booth. "They're – otherwise occupied."

Porcello pushes Justin's hand down. "Oh, great."

"Hey, I know this place, in the back. No one bugs you – unless you want 'em to," Justin tries to yell over the music, right in Porcello's ear, lips grazing lightly against the kid's earlobe.

Porcello shakes his head, unable to make out Justin's words over the throbbing beat of the music, saying, "Okay, whatever," letting Justin tug him along.

*

Justin can still hear the music through the thick walls of the secret room, the room where he takes all his girls. He likes it because it's noise-proof, private. Everyone knows what goes on in these private rooms anyway, but nobody cares as long as it isn't bothersome or illegal.

Justin shuts the door behind them and glances over at Porcello. The kid leans against the wall and looks right back, meeting gazes with Justin unwaveringly. Porcello tilts his head back a little bit, exposing a long strip of his throat, and Justin steps forward, bunching his hand in the front of Porcello's shirt. Justin dives in to run his tongue lightly over the place where the kid's neck meets his shoulder, and Porcello turns his head.

"Hey." Porcello wraps a hand around Justin's in his shirt. "What are you doing?"

"Just relax, let me take it from here," Justin says into the smooth skin of Porcello's neck, uncurling his hand and yanking his shirt out of his belt. Porcello's skin smells vaguely of sweat and cologne, and, inexplicably, baseball dirt.

Porcello presses a hand firmly against Justin's chest, wedging their bodies apart. "What the fuck?"

"Why're you fightin' me? You've been givin' off vibes all week," Justin complains, letting Porcello push him away. He scrubs a hand over his face, trying to unscramble his brain.

" _What_ vibes?" Porcello asks, narrowing his eyes at Justin, tugging on the front of his shirt before stuffing it into the waistband of his pants.

" _You_ know. The kind that say you want this," Justin grumbles.

Porcello slides away from the wall and cranes his neck, looks past Justin to the exit as if he's calculating the distance between Justin and the door. "Sorry, but I'm _not_ into dudes."

"Then what the hell were those vibes all about?"

"I don't _give_ off any vibes. Go get your gaydar fixed or something," Porcello snaps. "Jeez, this is so fucking weird."

"Hey, I'm not gay either!" Justin looks up and fixes the kid with a glare, knitting his brow.

"Then what the hell was this all about?" Porcello asks.

"You were actin' like you wanted it, so I was gonna, uh, give it to you," Justin says. It didn't sound that lame in his head. "You've been, like, aloof an' bitchy to me all week. An' then you're, like, followin' me around like a puppy an' askin' me shit. An' you, like, _flirt_ with me."

Porcello's eyes bug out in either shock or rage, Justin can't tell. Maybe both, at once. "I do not!"

 _Oh, hell with it._ Justin grabs Porcello by the front of his shirt and tugs him close, kisses the shit out of him. He can taste something sweet and sugary on his tongue as he delves deeper into Porcello's mouth. _Jesus, is that_ cotton candy _?_ Porcello grabs onto his wrists and Justin waits for him to shove him away, but he doesn't.

Porcello finally breaks the kiss, panting hard, hands still locked around Justin's wrists. His mouth is wet and swollen, and his cheeks are flushed. Justin waits for him to say something, as the thump of club music bounces around in his chest with his heartbeat.

The kid doesn't say anything. He just breathes hard and loud, through his nose.

Finally, Justin breaks the almost-silence. "You – okay?"

Porcello blinks, before focusing his eyes on Justin, squinting as if seeing him for the first time. "The _fuck_ do you think you are?"

"What are you talking about?" Justin asks, unknotting his fists in Porcello's shirt and stepping back, putting a little space between them. 

"You fucking _kissed_ me. Who the fuck _does_ that?" Porcello's eyes flash fire.

"I didn't see you pushin' me away." Justin smirks and crosses his arms over his chest, cocking his hip.

"You think 'cause you're Justin fucking Verlander, you can have whoever you want?" Porcello wipes the back of his hand across his mouth.

"That ain't what this is, and you know it." Justin smirks. "You want me just as bad as I want you, you're just too chickenshit to admit it."

"And you're outta your fuckin' mind," Porcello says, raising his voice and losing his composure, Jersey boy accent coming out loud and clear. "I'm not some fuckin' conquest, like, I'm fuckin' _Mexico_ and you – you're fuckin' Cortés or whoever the fuck."

"You're cute when you're mad," Justin says with a grin.

"Fuck you." Porcello pushes away from the wall and tries to shove past Justin, but Justin puts his arms out. "Get outta my fuckin' way."

Justin grins, keeping his arms spread out wide to block Porcello from getting to the door. "I'll make you a deal. Gimme a kiss an' I'll let you pass."

"Fuck that, I'd rather eat a bowl of glass," Porcello snaps, lancing Justin with a hard glare.

"Not budgin' 'til I get my way."

Porcello lets out an angry sigh and turns his back on Justin, pacing in the other direction. Justin studies Porcello as he moves, the lines of his body shifting under his clothes. Justin follows Porcello with his eyes as the kid stalks around the tiny room like a caged panther and realizes he had underestimated him; Porcello isn't about to crack.

"Okay, fine," Justin finally says, after several long, excruciating minutes, dropping his arms to his sides. He waves a dismissive hand to the exit. "You can go."

Porcello stops pacing and turns, giving Justin a skeptical once over. "How do I know this isn't just some kind of trick?" he asks.

"Like I haveta trick anyone into my pants," Justin retorts, smirking half-heartedly.

"You're awfully damn fulla yourself," Porcello says, slim smile playing with the corner of his mouth. "I'm one person you're not gonna get in your pants."

"We'll see about that," Justin says, quietly, stepping to the side and gesturing to the door. " 's all yours."

Porcello edges toward the door slowly, like a nervous rabbit, ready to bolt at the slightest hint of danger. "All right."

Justin stays in place by the door, and smirks to himself when Porcello stops in front of him, trying to make sure that none of their body parts touch. "I don't have cooties, y'know."

"I know that." Porcello scowls, visibly irritated.

Justin just smirks and leans back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest as Porcello slips past him.

*

Justin sprints across the field, cross-trainers sinking deep into the vibrantly green Florida grass. He drowns out the whistles and shouts behind him, all the incomprehensible background noise. 

He can hear the girls calling to him from beyond the fence, screaming his name and rattling the chain-link the closer he gets. He slows down long enough to wink at a pretty blonde who squeals when they make eye contact.

Justin smirks and trots on.

"Hey."

Justin looks over as Porcello pulls alongside him. "Hey, rook." Justin inclines his head toward the kid slightly, slowing down a little so Porcello can catch up.

" 's up?" Porcello settles into a steady trot, the soles of his cross-trainers crunching in the gravel as they jog from the soft grass to the warning track.

"Nothin' much. Jus' the usual, y'know?" Justin kicks at loose gravel.

"I guess." Porcello turns away from Justin, toward the horizon with the sun on their back. "Crazy night last night, huh?"

"Yeah," Justin acknowledges, grunting.

Porcello falls silent and the unspoken words fill the spaces between and around them, as they trot along the warning track, cross-trainers digging up gravel and sand. Occasionally a pebble will bite into the back of Justin's leg, and he knows it's Porcello behind him, kicking gravel and shit at him, but he doesn't turn around.

When they're done, they head inside to undress and go to the showers. Justin pauses at his locker and begins to strip off his sweat-logged clothing. Porcello is at his own locker, already half-naked, a towel knotted loosely around his waist.

Justin feels something stir deep inside him that he tries to tamp down.

Porcello grabs his toiletries and heads into the showers. Justin raises his head and looks around, deciding the coast is clear, before following after.

Justin creeps into the showers, a towel slung over his shoulder, and starts pulling back the vinyl curtains for Porcello.

The kid is in the last stall, back to the world, his head bowed. Justin slips in behind him and pulls the curtain closed behind him.

Porcello hears the rustle of vinyl on vinyl and turns at the sound. "Justin, what the hell are you doing?" Porcello has the sense to lower his voice so that no one who may be hanging around in the lockerroom will come running.

Justin reaches up to adjust the shower settings and tips his head back, letting the water sting him in the face. "Jus' here to finish what we started the other night," he says, shaking the water out of his hair.

"What if someone comes back here?" Porcello asks, nudging Justin away with his elbow.

"Nobody's gonna come back here," Justin insists, slipping a hand to Porcello's hip.

"You don't know how to take no for an answer, do you?" Porcello's voice is hard, but he's still standing there, and hasn't kneed Justin in the groin yet. Progress.

"Nobody's ever told me no," Justin says, smirking, keeping his hand low on Porcello's hip. "So, about last night . . ."

Porcello swipes his wet hair out of his face and squints. "You seem to have a bit of an entitlement complex. Maybe it's time to have that looked at."

"You're not complainin'." Justin tugs Porcello closer.

Porcello presses both hands against Justin's chest, keeping their bodies apart. "You better leave."

"No," Justin murmurs, "we both know you don't really mean that."

"You have no idea what the fuck I mean," Porcello hisses, giving Justin a gentle shove. 

Justin pushes back, and grins when Porcello's shoulder blades meet the shower tiles. "I think I know yourself better'n you do, _Frederick_."

"Don't call me that." Porcello makes a face.

" 'm I gettin' under your skin yet, _Frederick_?" Justin needles, bracing his hands on either side of Porcello's head. Justin leans in as Porcello tries to lean back, hampered by the slick tiled wall behind him.

"I said, don't call me Frederick." Porcello raises his head and steels his jaw.

Justin seizes the opportunity then, leaning in and kissing him. It's different than the night before, though, softer and gentler, deeper. Justin slips an arm down around Porcello's waist, pulling him firmly against his chest.

Justin can feel Porcello's hands on his shoulders, and he isn't exactly kissing back yet, but at least he isn't fighting him, and he hasn't kicked him where it hurts. Justin takes this lack of pain as encouragement and tightens his arm around Porcello's waist, grinding their hips together.

Porcello squirms a little bit against Justin and turns his head, and Justin ends up kissing his jawline. "C'mon."

"C'mon what, Rick," Justin breathes into Porcello's jaw and rubs his thigh between Porcello's legs again.

"C'mon, stop," Porcello gasps, trying to squirm his hips away from Justin, to no avail.

Justin pulls Porcello firmly against his thigh and rubs, grinning against his jawline. Porcello's hands open and close on his back, clutch at him, grappling for more, and Justin knows he has him where he wants him.

The shower beats relentlessly down Justin's back as he pushes Porcello into the wall and thrusts against him, and now Porcello is thrusting back, fingers still gripping tightly.

Porcello is going to leave marks, and Justin smirks against the line of the kid's throat at the thought, before lightly grazing his teeth over the skin there. Justin bites down lightly just as Porcello cries out and brings their bodies together with a clasping hand on Justin's back.

*

Justin pulls his trademark Ed Hardy t-shirt down over his head, wincing as the scratchy cotton fabric scrapes against tender skin. He steps into his faded jeans and hitches them up, tugging a leather belt through the loops and buckling it.

Porcello is at his locker, buttoning up a starched denim shirt and tucking it into a pair of neatly pressed khakis. Justin snorts to himself and bends over to pull a pair of shoes out of his locker stall.

Porcello brushes past Justin and he straightens up, reaching out and snagging his finger in Porcello's belt-loop.

"Hey," Justin says, tugging him back.

"What do you want?" Porcello asks, giving him a _look_.

"You wanna go out clubbin' with me, Jordan an' Zoom? We're hittin' a new place tonight." Justin grins, finger still hooked in Porcello's belt-loop.

"No thanks, I think I'll pass tonight." Porcello offers Justin a slight smile.

"Off to sell Bibles, I presume." Justin grins, but Porcello just tilts his head and looks at him all cock-eyed. "I'm way more fun."

"Whatever you think's going on – it's not." Porcello slips Justin's finger out of his belt-loop. "See you tomorrow."

Justin frowns deeply. "Whaddaya mean, _what's_ not goin' on?"

"I mean," Porcello gestures between them, " _this_ , whatever the fuck this is between you and me." Porcello lowers his voice, body already half-turned toward the door. "I'm not your _game_."

"I don't think you're my _game_ ," Justin stammers, just a little bit stung. "I had fun."

"I've gotten mixed up with people like you before," Porcello says, and something pings at the back of Justin's brain – Porcello didn't say _women_. "I'm not that dumb."

"What kinda person d'you think I am?" Justin asks.

"You _know_ what kind of person I think you are," Porcello says, stepping back. "I'll see you tomorrow at practice, Justin." He nods to Justin stiffly and heads out of the lockerroom.

Justin watches him go and wonders why it feels as if he's just lost a game he's pretty sure he wasn't even playing.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


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